


Came Back To Show You I Could Fly

by sapphire_child



Series: Charlie/Claire 50 Darkfics (Livejournal) [23]
Category: Lost
Genre: Community: 50_darkfics, F/M, Future Fic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: Three years have passed when Claire receives a visit from the last person she ever expected to see again.





	Came Back To Show You I Could Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I claimed Charlie and Claire over on [](https://50-darkfics.livejournal.com/profile)[**50_darkfics**](https://50-darkfics.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Prompt:** 53\. Light  
>  **Disclaimer:** Charlie and Claire are not mine – they belong to Lost and all it’s various counterparts. The manip in the fic header was made by the tremendously talented [](https://hopelessfangirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**hopelessfangirl**](https://hopelessfangirl.livejournal.com/) and the title of this fic (and the lyrics) are stolen from the wonderful Robin Klein who wrote the book “Came Back To Show You I Could Fly” and whom I bow down to because she is awesome.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/36942521200/in/album-72157686884668124/)

_Like a star in the midnight sky_  
_That fades into the morning_  
 _Came back to show you I could fly_  
 _But you had gone without a warning_  
 _Could still hear you saying_  
 _Go on girl, you can do it_  
 _It’s only life…_

~*~

  
She’s not sure how long it’s been but it must’ve been years by now. Trifles such as counting the weeks, months, years have long since passed along the wayside in lieu of more important things like staying alive for just one more miserable bloody day.

She’s done her best to live on this island – to survive – but along the way she’s made mistakes, lots of them. She has the scars to prove it too – a long thin one running along her inner arm, a burn on her right calf muscle, the half healed gash on her cheek…

A long time ago somebody might have looked after her wounds, tended to her every whim. Now the remaining people on this island are scattered, divided – all for themselves. Occasionally she runs into one or two of them and they will share a campfire and pass on news.

Alex and Danielle like to travel inland together, a seamless team. In the beginning she camped with them a lot but after they taught her how to make her own way...well she doesn’t really need them anymore except for their companionship.

Locke tromps through the thickest jungle hunting and trapping alone, exactly the way he likes it. He always has smoked boar ready in his pack and a new story to tell. She likes spending time with him because he doesn’t even both to ask if she’s doing alright out in the wild alone. He understands that she’s happier out here, alone, than if she were with people.

Desmond meanwhile haunts a secret cave by the sea and spends hours rocking backwards and forwards clutching a dog-eared photograph as he listens to the ocean whisper his name. He never has much to say to her or she to him, but they sit and watch the sun set over the water and sometimes he’ll begin to mutter over and that he’s sorry, so sorry and she’ll assure him blankly that it’s fine and that she forgives him.

She never lingers with any of them for long.

Occasionally she returns to the Others old encampment for a week or two for water and shelter – especially when it’s monsoon season. There is a group of survivors who live there indefinitely. They always welcome her in without question, tend to her wounds, and then when she goes to leave they beg her to stay with them.

She always refuses – she prefers to be alone.

The rest of the time she lives off the land, rough and ready. The softness is all gone from her body now – she is thinner than she’s ever been, strong and sinewy. She still limps a little bit though, an old injury from where she hit the water when she fell (she’s surprised that she survived at all, falling from such a height and then having to swim back to shore unaided).

That was the day that they took her baby from her. They took her Aaron away on that helicopter and she hasn’t seen him since. She doesn’t even know if he’s still alive. If he is then he’s probably got a new mother – someone who takes care of him when he’s sick or scared. She hates them, whoever they are, for daring to believe that they could ever love her son more than she could.

He’s not the only one she misses though. Sometimes when she curls up to sleep at night she forgets to remember her son and instead she thinks of her last love and her fingers slide across her bare skin wantonly. It never feels as good as she wants it to but it doesn’t stop her from trying nevertheless.

The first time that she sees him she’s trekking through a dense patch of jungle, aimlessly circling for game when he steps out from behind a tree. He raises a hand to her and without even thinking she tears off through the underbrush as fast as she can, a complete blind panic gripping her.

She’s seen things before that weren’t there and they’ve only led her to trouble.

The second time she sees him she’s bathing herself in a stream, her clothes strewn across the bank, shivering in her nakedness. She turns upstream and gasps out loud when she sees pale figure, hooded in black standing in the shallow water, again with one hand outstretched towards her.

By the time she’s got her rifle in her hands and she’s turned back – he’s gone.

The third time – the last time – she is hunting again. She’s almost out of bullets and the boar she’s been inexpertly following seems to sense that she’s there. It sniffs, squeals in protest and then trundles off into the jungle suddenly, making her miss a perfect shot. She’s just dropping the rifle, frustrated beyond all measure when she hears his voice behind her.

“Hello there,”

She swings around and raises the rifle to her shoulder, freezing in shock when she sees who it is.

His hair is shorter and dark, his jaw lightly stubbled and his blue eyes are bright. She notes the absurdity of him wearing a leather jacket here in the sweltering tropical heat and presses her lips together, feeling somewhat calmer.

“You’re not here,” she says flatly, not lowering the rifle. “You’re dead.”

“I am dead,” he says softly and he takes a step towards her, keeping his hands held up high. “But I’m also here.”

She falters at his words then redoubles her grip on the weapon in her hands.

“I am here,” he repeats in a softly placating tone, still stepping slowly towards her through the underbrush until he’s standing right in front of her.

“Prove it,” she breathes, giddy from the vision or dream or whatever the hell this is. “Show me that you’re here.”

He pauses, his expression flickering curiously and then he raises his hand to touch her lips with the backs of his fingers.

Her jaw falls open in surprise at the contact, but instead of pulling back like she expects him to, he turns his hand over and touches the scar on her cheek with careful fingertips.

“Charlie?” she whimpers and he pulls his hand away gently while she trembles and shakes, the rifle limp in her hand.

“Sort of,” he smiles humourlessly. “I wish I could’ve come sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” she demands, suddenly angry. “I don’t understand why…”

His fingertips are on her lips again and she falls silent, breathless beneath his touch.

“Shh,” he murmurs softly. “Don’t talk. Just listen.”

She does.

“They’re coming back for you,” he says softly. “They’re coming back for you and they’re going to take you home again.”

“Home?” the word is as foreign to her tongue as it is to her thoughts. She hasn’t thought of home in a long time.

“And they’ve got Aaron,” he continues, his eyes darkening slightly. “Kate’s got him. He’s safe and he’s beautiful and he’s well. And you’re going to be together again soon I promise.”

“Aaron?” she repeats faintly, hardly daring to believe. “Kate’s got my…Aaron…”

He moves around behind her and puts his lips to her ear. His hands hover on either side of her waist, barely touching her

“A long time ago I promised that I’d protect you,” he breathes. “That I’d protect Aaron. I never forgot that promise Claire. Everything is going to be fine.”

She shuts her eyes as he brushes her hair back from her face and for the first time in years she feels tears bubbling from her eyes and falling through the dirt engrained on her cheeks. She sobs out loud as she feels his lips press against her hair for a brief, sweet moment, and then he steps back.

She turns – wanting so badly to hold him, to kiss him, to just _see_ him one more time with her own.

But he’s not there.

She crumbles to the ground, her rifle falling uselessly to the wayside and buries her face in hands.

Despite everything that has happened to her she knows beyond all doubt that everything that he said to her is true – except for one thing. She’s going to go home and she’s going to see her son again – but everything is not going to be fine because she knows that Charlie isn’t going to be there waiting for her.


End file.
